Untitled Bill Season
by Double-Zero-Doc
Summary: A slice of Bill’s solo life


Part 1 - Knife Edge...

"Are we square?"

... "We're square."

"Then get the fuck out of my town."

Bill watched them drive away and out of his life for what he figured was the more than likely the last time, he was used to that by now, or so he told himself. "It's fine. Fuck them", he was better on his own. He helped them out of obligation, out of what he owed and he payed his debt and then some. With a resolute period on the subject. "Time to get back to work..." he muttered as he started the walk back to his church bunker/safe house.

It seemed quieter than usual. Well, it was always quiet except for his conversations with the air and what it breezed or sometimes more forcefully said back, and of course those things. They moaned, they shuffled, they cried, sometimes they spoke with almost words that you could understand, and sometimes if Bill let them go on to long they clicked. Though he had uses for those sorts too.

Defence through using your enemy against your other enemy; the less predicable enemy as he recently said. The infected had this singular use, well, other than the reminder of the one alternative of what was after death. After death there was either nothing or worse than nothing, and Bill like most others, mostly preferred option one.

"Damn it!" reacted Bill to his remembering that nearly all of his traps were set off by the lumbering plaid wearing Joel and that little brat he had in tow. This of course meant two things, that after he made it back to the church he'd have only a little moments of rest before he had to set out again to rearm the traps and check the barrier defences in case they "fucked with those too! They probably did, I know I owed him, but did he really have to set them all off!? For fucks sake Joel, you really know how to ruin a day." The wind whistled in a seeming mocking tone. "Didn't ask you for your opinion."

He did realise of course he had with their help cleared a lot more territory to forage and loot in, the school and outskirts of it alone would prove to be full of many useful items to sell and barter with, he hoped so anyway. They hadn't made much of a thorough search on their way through, because obviously they were mostly focused on staying alive and getting past the runners, clickers and that damn surprise bloater than for looking for supplies at the time. Though this also meant he could and would eventually extend the borders of his town. "More places to barricade off" he grumbled, "more work, all thanks to our Joely-boy." And the girl too he was reminded back by the ether. "and the girl too, I know, she's going to be the death of him and then that's one less trading partner and contact, but he already wrote him off for dead or not to be heard from again. So that's that. Period.

Bill had finally made it back to the church just after noon time, which was good, he only had a moment or two to rest and he had to get back to work and he wanted to do it before sunset. Even in his fortified down that wasn't smart. "We don't want to work in the dark if we don't have to, that's not smart, and smart keeps us alive."

Respite from the long endeavour with those two was finally here, and also some food. The girl was right, he could lose some, but it was one of the few things he still enjoyed. He'd been a foodie before the outbreak and though it was a lot harder to quench that particular semi-vice, he still managed at times to do so. "Man can not live on rat meat alone," he amused himself as he said the fitting adapted lines in the fitting place that was within the the formerly sacred walls.

Well to a degree they still were, they kept him alive and life is sacred; though it only did so physically at least. He had long since gave up on the other worldly spiritual side, it truthfully had died long before the outbreak. Frank had in part rekindled Bill's to a small degree through his own, though Frank's was more Zen Buddhist than anything that would have been within these walls when they were used for there original purpose. Though they shared some similar veins of thought.

Bill made his way up his room, he mumbled about all the traps he had mentally noted that he to attend to first before others. Finding his pen and scrap paper he jotted them down. It was an exorcism of sorts, he had to get the words out of his head on to the page, otherwise they'd linger there gnawing at him and pestering him until he made note of it. Then of course the note would do so, but in blessed silence. He fumbled around for an energy bar which he promptly ate and then he went down to rest.

Thankfully he had always been gifted with an internal timer, he could tell himself to cat nap for 45 minutes and he'd roughly wake in or around the desired amount of time. He rose with some more difficulty than usual, and of course he blamed Joel. "It was a long fucking day, wasn't it?" No matter, no rest for the wicked, time to get back to it.

The walk down to the basement was frustrating as he noticed his periodical stacks were shorter and moved about. "Ellie, you little shit, you took something didn't you? I don't blame you, but damn Joel is getting sloppy to not to notice. No, that's not it, he was in cahoots the with you to raid my shit!" He realised this of course because his tool kit and spare parts were also missing. "God damn it Joel!" He had backups, and extras and the extended territory would more than make up for it of course, but that was besides the point.

He went to getting those extras now because he had to craft up some nail bomb trip wire traps. The toy store was always busy and the toy master always vigilant. That's the price for life, eternal vigilance.

Bill sat on his haunches as he stringed the trip wires across key the places. He hadn't been through the Main Street in a while. It of course hadn't changed, well, minus what he had to replace and rearm. As annoying as those two were, he confided, it was to some degree nice to have some new voices to yell at. Bill felt alone, and surrounded by quiet. Silence. The great irony is that in the end, the silence is much too loud. The record store he thought. He could almost hear Frank now, "Man, we've got that whole store of tunes, we should bring some back." The argument against it was solid, but lacking in its intended forcefulness, he was soft on Frank. Only on Frank.

"Damn it Frank, how many times, music is dangerous; the noise can and will draw them." This is where he'd be gently complemented by Frank over his foraging skills, "so rustle up me a pair of headphones for the turntable and we won't have that problem will we?" Bill sighed as he turned away from the store. He had found those headphones of course, but they had disappeared when Frank did.

Bill stood there. Realising he had to do something. Something more important than resetting his defences. Something that wasn't smart. God damn it Frank." Once again Bill started his way back to the Church.

In the garden cemetery he retrieved a well worn wheelbarrow from the shed, "good enough" he said. Well, more like practical enough. It would be silent. Mostly silent. It was now or never. They cleared the area, it would be fine. Mostly fine. There are always ones that lurk about, hidden away. Those were the ones that were dangerous, not the ones that tried to kill you. It's the ones that seemingly had some sense to stay away, to kill you another day, he supposed that made them more human.

The long looming burned yellow orange of the school buses was what stood most, their decay and rust and mingling with the green that was grabbing hold of them didn't take away too much from their iconic colour. Their signs also faded, titles for the dead, groups from this and that corner of the former United States headed for temporary safety that they'd soon lose or move on from.

He made his way through the school through the back window abandoning the wheelbarrow, taking a mental snap shot of places to loot. The locker room alone would provide a good deal he imagined. He removed some of the blockades on the doors so he could go outside to retrieve what would be Frank's makeshift hearse. He wheeled it in over the bodies of runners and clickers as he made his way through the school. The wheel squished and soaked up the waste of meat and blood and trailed a path to the outside where he'd make is way to the house where Frank still remained.

He raised the ladder they previously hastily knocked over, and climbed. He quickly took a hammer to quietly as he could remove some of the fencing that he'd need to carry Frank through to carry him in the wheelbarrow for the trip back. He then entered Frank's last house.

The smell hit him again, "Jeez Frank," and there he was. Still on the floor in that awful shirt. His long brown hair still remained, his face a sunken, yet still recognisable mask of the man Bill loved and hated. Or hated and loved, depending on the day went. Today there was only emptiness and duty, maybe a little lingering love.

"If you don't mind I'm looking around first, we still have some daylight. Is that okay with you?" Frank for once did not object. Bill started with the kitchen, everyone has a junk drawer and in it long forgotten treasures could be salvaged, repurposed, used to the full. Mostly. Sometimes it was indeed just junk. He found this home's trove and found it full of lots of fiddly bits of kitchen gadgets, some of which had sharp edges. Useful. There were of course thrown in manuals for now mostly useless electrical appliances.

The kitchen also yielded some hoarded and stolen foodstuffs from raids that Bill and Frank had previously ventured on, mostly Bill of course, Frank was for the most part the stay at home type; the preparer and sorter of what Bill returned with.

Most of the house was sealed off, the area of the room in which Frank slept and wrote his last note to Bill was large and mostly empty. In the corner was a box, in which on top of various misc items and vinyl records of mostly prog rock was a 7 inch single record out of its sleeve and on top, the rested headphones. Both covered in a small layer of dust.

He shook the headphones off and put them around his neck then picked up the record and found its accompanying cardboard sleeve. It was Self titles single for Emerson, Lake and Palmer with Lucky Man along with Knife Edge. The former of which Bill knew to be Frank's favourite, he'd sing it often. He was not aware of the other song however. He looked about, and not too far away was a turntable. Bill sighed. "I suppose I'm taking this too. I'm the one who fixed it for you anyway" he yelled back to Frank in the other room.

He grabbed the ELP single and the turntable and went back to Frank. "Let's go home."

It was slower going, as Bill was careful more with Frank now resting on the wheelbarrow. He avoided obstacles and didn't rush, and he made his way back into the school. The doors were still unblocked, so that's one thing he didn't have to do. As he made it inside with Frank he caught sight of a shadow in the corner of his eye, a shadow that wasn't there before. From the direction of the shadow came a familiar set of clicks. "Fuck."

He moved a bit more quickly, then darted into a classroom with Frank and quickly set to barricading the doors. Thankfully it only had two entrances, or more hopefully later, two exits. Easy to seal off, easy to fortify with chairs and desks. The clicking wasn't alone now however, once again Bill uttered the hostile words, this time towards Frank, "Fuck, fuck, fuck! You going to get to get me killed too Frank?"

"Nothing to say? Well that's a first." Frank lay in the wheelbarrow, he now dawned the headphones as Bill had earlier took them off and put them on the remains, he seemed more like Frank that way. He was formerly constantly jamming out with them on like some teenager from a long ago time. "Oh maybe you can't hear me with that shit on your head!" Bill removed the headphones and Frank's head bobbed forward. "Look at me Frank, we need to get out of here, but it won't be any time soon," explained Bill as he readjusted Frank's head. He seemed to have a ghost of his former coy boyish smile on his face. Bill smiled back in spite of himself and the situation.

"We'll wait here until I come up with a plan to get us out of here." Bill sat back, and reaching into his pocket he retrieved an energy bar and dug in. He spotted a small portable generator in the back. "Now that's finally something good that came out of today." He wheeled it over and cranked it up, and pulling the turn table out he plugged it in and the headphones into it. "Let's see what your song is all about."

Bill cleaned the headphones off with some supplies he found in the classroom, then placing them over his ears he heard the song Knife Edge begin to play.

Just a step cried the sad man

Take a look down at the madman

Theatre kings on silver wings

Fly beyond reason

From the flight of the seagull

Come the spread claws of the eagle

Only fear breaks the silence

As we all kneel and pray for guidance

Tread the road cross the abyss

Take a look down at the madness

On the streets of the city

Only spectres still have pity

Patient queues for the gallows

Sing the praises of the hallowed

Our machines feed the furnace

If they take us they will burn us

Will you still know who you are

When you come to who you are

When the flames have their season

Will you hold to your reason

Loaded down with your talents

Can you still keep your balance

Can you live on a knife-edge

"Well that's just depressing."

"I'm sorry." Bill heard back.

"Yeah well, at least it wasn't Lucky Man again."

"No, Bill I'm sorry for everything. For leaving." But fuck you, you didn't leave me a choice."

"I didn't leave you a choice!? What, what did I do that was so bad, I looked after you, took care of us!" Bill snapped.

"You didn't let me in, wouldn't let me in, to also take care of you, to have a life outside of all of this."

"This? This is all there is, being alive, or death or being one of them. That's all!"

"No Bill, you still don't get it, life is more than just being alive, it's living. We had that once."

"And it got us nowhere."

"But we still managed to live life, to love, to just be in the moment and forget the world and what it is and what it could be. Together."

"There was never going to be that could be, the struggle..."

"Fuck the struggle, we struggle to live, but you don't live Bill, you breathe, but you don't take it in, you don't."

"Well, it didn't get you anywhere in the end now did it, your 'living life' got you killed. Fuck you for leaving and fuck wanting more, there isn't anything more."

"You're right, I'm dead. You soon will be too, so wake the fuck up!"


End file.
